


One More Time

by Nejinee



Series: These Streets 'verse [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Action, Alternate Universe - Police, Anal Sex, Beefy Bucky, Blow Jobs, Cop Steve, Crimes & Criminals, Humor, Jealous Bucky Barnes, Jealous Steve Rogers, Law Enforcement, M/M, Mechanic Bucky Barnes, Pining, Police, Police officer Steve, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 01:57:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11659224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nejinee/pseuds/Nejinee
Summary: Getting information out of people is tough, especially for a Police Officer in a town that doesn't respect the cops. Folks don't want to talk, or snitch. So to close a case, Steve has to be patient and work his way round every angle, while still trying to not be waylaid by people like the frustratingly confusing Bucky Barnes.





	One More Time

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [One More Time 再來一次](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12909855) by [carolchang829](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolchang829/pseuds/carolchang829)



> Part three! I'd definitely recommend reading the two stories prior to this, so it makes a tad more sense.
> 
> Warning: Mention of violence/death and blood.

Steve entered the dimly lit gym and followed the pointing finger of a medic.

“Oh, Cap, finally,” Danny Rand said, getting up from on his knees to greet him.

Steve just stared around at the mess. “What happened?” he asked.

Rand pulled out his notepad. “Phone call came in at nine-twenty-three. Anonymous witness says a fight got out of hand. Knives came out, gunshots. Then everyone fled the scene.”

Steve looked over the body on the floor. “Who’s the vic?”

“Um,” Danny chewed his lip. “Cleaner says it’s Jim Fogherty, he owns the place.”

The old, heavy-set man on the ground was in a seeping pool of blood, face-down.

“Damnit,” Steve breathed. “Fogherty? Really? I haven’t seen him in years. Didn’t even recognize him.”

“Well,” Danny shrugged, “He’s cut up pretty bad, and the bruising might–“

Steve waved his hand. “Okay, okay.” He looked around at the gym, noting the boxing rings and workout gear. The whole place was pretty dark. “Hey, Jefferies,” he called. The other officer looked up. “Call in some extra lamps. We gotta light this up better.”

“Forensics is here,” came Sam’s familiar voice. Steve turned to meet him. “Shit,” Sam breathed upon seeing Fogherty.

“Yeah,” Steve said, hands on hips. “Looks like we got ourselves a homicide.”

 

* * *

 

“Is it true?” America said, walking beside Steve like some kind of basset hound.

He glanced over at her in her red beanie jammed over her mass of curls, and her thick scarf and wool coat.

Steve just tilted his head in question. “I brought cronuts,” he said, lifting his arm to show off the box.

“Was Mr Fogherty stabbed? For real?”

Steve huffed loudly and carefully made his way up the iced up steps of the community centre. “Somebody’s gotta salt the ramp,” he said, looking over. “Tell Anthony he’s been slacking.”

“I heard he only had one hand and that someone shivved him for a kidney too.,” America went on, keeping up easily.

Steve tried to keep a calm face as he pushed through into the lobby. America followed, still chattering away.

“Hey kids,” he said when he finally made it to the hall.

“Officer Rogers!” Patsy cried out and waved from her seat.

A few of the other families waved.

“We’re gonna have a great Winter Ball!” Emily Jenkins clapped from on her mom’s lap.

“Where the hell you been?” Natasha said, appearing out of nowhere. “This thing started half an hour ago.”

“Traffic, I got held up,” Steve said. He turned to the table of snacks. “I brought cronuts!”

The group of kids pigging out looked up. “The hell’s a cronut?” Billy Kaplan asked, mouth full of chocolate.

Steve’s smile faltered. “It’s uh, here, look,” he opened up the box and squeezed it between the cheesecake and a weirdly green tart of some sort.

“Is it like an acorn?” Patsy asked, leaning over.

“No, guys,” Steve said, tugging off his fleece-eared hat. “They’re like doughnuts, but made of croissant dough. So, like fried, round croissants.”

The kids just gave him weird looks, as if his fancy-bought baked snacks weren’t any good here, then went back to mauling the free food.

“It’s okay,” Natasha patted his shoulder. “You tried.”

He turned and walked with her, waving at a lot of the familiar faces.

“Good turnout this year,” he said, nodding to Mrs Eliani and her tribe.

“Yeah,” Natasha said. “The girls got their bosses to donate some stuff.” She pointed to the walls. “Ribbons and crépe paper. Some of the banners.”

“Robertson promised sandwiches,” Steve said.

“Yup, all delivered. I mean, he was stingy on the cold cuts, but whatever. Food is food,” she said.

“Hey, the Ramirez clan made it,” Steve said, smiling.

Natasha smiled wider, “Yeah, they did.” She turned to him. “Apparently someone helped them get in at the family shelter. Got ‘em out of the East side hellhole.”

Steve smiled, “Fantastic.”

Natasha’s mouth twisted to the side. “I know it was you, you idiot. You’re not as innocent as you used to look back in grade school.”

Steve shrugged, “They have little ones,” he murmured. “They can’t be sleeping in boxes behind the gas station. It’s not right.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know.”

America popped up, this time with her other half at her side.

“Is it true there were satanic sigils painted on the walls?” Kate said, looking up at Steve. “In blood?”

“What?” Steve stepped back. “No! And stop asking me. It’s not fun and games.”

“But Mr Fogherty was totally murdered, right?” America pressed, eyes wide with fascination.

“Guys!” Steve put his hands up, “I can’t talk about the investigation, okay? And you shouldn’t be so interested anyhow. A man died.”

Kate snorted, “Yeah, but it was Fogherty. He was shit.”

“Hey,” Steve reprimanded.

Kate shrugged.

“Girls, why don’t you go get the music started. I think Ice said he’s open to melody suggestions.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like he’s got a whole DJ setup or anything,” America rolled her eyes. “He’s just got a cheap-ass PC.”

“Go!” Natasha said, pushing at their shoulders.

The two teens grumped off, leaving Steve a moment to breathe.

“Oh my God,” he said. “They’re like dogs with a bone.”

Natasha smirked and looked around. “Well, it’s a tight community, remember? People get freaked out by shit like this.”

Steve noted the many folks getting up to dance once Ice got the beats rolling. Even the oldies were clapping along, enjoying a simple respite during this blisteringly cold season.

“Yeah, well,” he murmured.

“Thanks for bringing food,” Natasha said. “Even if it is some boutique bakery shit.”

“Hey, come on, don’t rag on me,” Steve said. “I just got off work. Twelve-hour shift.”

Natasha just smiled and patted him again. “Making a living’s tough, pal. Suck it up.”

Steve made a face and she laughed.

“Oh, also,” she leaned closer into him. “What’s the deal with old Fogherty’s death? Still calling it murder, homicide?”

“Oh, not you too!” Steve huffed loudly and irately.

 

* * *

 

Steve really didn’t want to do this.

He looked up at the grey trimmed house with the freshly redone gutters.

“All right,” Sam came up the walkway. “Murdock’s got nothing, but he had his lawyer on standby. You ask me, that’s not super straight,” he went on. “What you think?”

Steve just stared at the new gutters.

“Steve?”

He blinked, then glanced at his partner in his own heavy police jacket and gloves.

“Sorry, what?” he said.

Sam just repeated what he said, and Steve nodded. “Yeah. Fishy.”

“Well, last one, let’s go,” Sam sighed. “You want me to lead?”

“Nah, no,” Steve rubbed at his eyebrow and then knocked.

“Who is it?” came through the door a few moments later.

“Police,” Steve said loudly.

They waited, Sam raised his brows. It was rare as hell for anyone on this street to open up at that word.

Eventually, the door creaked open and Bucky Barnes was standing there, frown on his face.

He was shirtless and sweaty and his hair was tied up, cigarette dangling from his lips. Like some kind of wet dream.

He eyed Steve, then Sam, warily.

Sam cleared his throat.

Steve just stared.

“Mr Barnes,” Sam said, exasperation leaking into his voice, “We’d like to ask you some questions.”

Bucky leaned his arm against the doorframe. “‘Bout what?” he asked gruffly.

“Uh, as you might have heard,” Steve said, “An incident occurred at Fogherty’s Gym a few days ago. We are aware you are a regular customer there. We’re hoping you have some answers for us.”

Bucky just stared at him. “I don’t know anything,” he murmured.

“This is really informal, we promise,” Sam said. “Standard procedure. If it makes you more comfortable, you may call your legal aid to assist you.”

Steve looked at Bucky with earnest eyes and the guy relented.

“Fine, come in. ’S fuckin’ cold.” Bucky said.

They followed him inside.

Steve was pretty sure the staircase had been refinished, as well as the bannisters.

“I’m in the kitchen,” Bucky said and Steve watched the strong muscles in his back.

So while Sam took lead, Steve catalogued what he could on the changes in the house.

New cabinets and one of those fancy-ass farm sinks. But what was really confusing Steve was why Bucky looked so wiped and so sweaty. No renovation work as far as he could see. No active anything.

He was taking notes while Sam grilled the man. And Sam was good at asking just the right stuff, getting people to slip up. But Bucky was learned in the ways of the police. So it was a whole lot of back and forth.

Bucky was scowling, arms crossed, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, I go every now and then, but not religiously,” he was saying.

“So you’ve known Jim Fogherty a long time?” Sam asked.

Bucky paused before answering. “Not real well. He’s just the owner. Old guy. Seen him around sometimes.”

Did Bucky have a visitor? Steve paused in his note-taking. Was that why he was all sweaty and out of breath? Steve looked at the other man.

Chill out, Rogers, he said internally. He’s just some guy and you’re not anything special.

It’s not like they’d made more than eye contact in months.

“Do you mind telling us where you were on Sunday morning, around ten am?” Sam asked.

“I was out,” Bucky said.

Sam looked at Steve. Then he looked at Bucky. “You mind elaborating?”

Bucky just stared back.

“All right,” Sam said, shaking his head. “You know that doesn’t look good, especially if you were one of the last people there Saturday.”

“I wasn’t at the gym on Saturday,” Bucky said.

Steve flipped through his notepad. “Another customer mentioned seeing you there Saturday around four pm.” Steve kept his head down but looked up.

Bucky was staring at him with annoyance bleeding through every pore. “That would be Jenny. I babysit her kids whenever she needs me to. I met her at the gym to swap her kids for my kettlebell. But I didn’t go inside.”

“Is that some kind of euphemism?” Steve asked, scratching down notes.

Bucky squinted at him. “No.”

Sam was shaking his head. “All right, well, you might be called on again, Barnes,” he said. “Don’t go anywhere. I mean it.”

“Fine, whatever,” Bucky said. “I got shit to do. We done here?”

“Sure, sure,” Sam sighed and pulled his sheepskin hat back on. Steve waited for a moment before following. As they walked back through the house, he couldn’t help looking for evidence of anyone else in the home. Shoes, handbag, extra mugs, anything.

When they got out the front door, he turned.

“Hey, thanks for letting us in,” he murmured, feeling the cold against his exposed face and neck.

“You better watch yourself,” Bucky murmured.

Steve frowned. “What? That a threat?”

Bucky was squinting over Steve’s shoulder, then he refocused on the man in front of him. “No, dumbass. I’m saying, be careful who you shake down. You know how it runs 'round here.”

Steve made a face. “You mean no one’s gonna tell us anything?”

Bucky licked his teeth behind his lips. “Let’s say you ask the wrong questions,” then he eyed Steve darkly, “And the wrong people get wind of it.”

Steve listened.

“Be careful, is what I’m saying,” Bucky said. “Ain’t no love for cops, you know that.”

Steve shook his head slowly. “I still gotta do my job. There’s a dead guy and no one to blame for his death.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Big surprise.”

Steve walked down the front steps and heard the front door shut behind him.

Sam was waiting on the sidewalk.

“He slip you anything useful?” he asked in the most patronizing voice possible.

“No,” Steve said and closed the front gate behind him.

 

* * *

 

“Forensics report,” Karen said, handing over the folder.

“Oh, thanks,” Steve murmured, looking up from his bagel. Sam grabbed the folder, his own mouth still full of pastrami.

“Finally,” Sam said round his bread. He swallowed. “Forensics always takes so long.”

Steve shrugged, “Team’s a little small and a little overwhelmed.”

“Yeah,” Sam’s eyes scanned the documents inside. He read for a moment while Steve finished up his meal, slurping at his lukewarm coffee to round it out. “Shoot, looks like you pegged it, Cap.”

Steve folded up his garbage. “Huh?”

“I thought the gunshot through the ribs got him,” Sam said, “but you were right about the amount of blood. He got stabbed first, so massive abdominal bleeding. Then he was shot a few minutes after, they guess. Front to back.”

Steve nodded. “Right.”

Sam looked up at him with a crooked brow. “How’d you figure?”

“If he got shot in the heart first, there’d have been far less blood,” Steve murmured, leaning his elbows on the desk. “Nothing to pump it out at such volume once he got stabbed. The knife hit an artery, right?”

Sam scanned the document, “Yeah. Iliac.”

Steve nodded.

“Huh,” Sam murmured. “Autopsy report says he has defensive wounds on the side of his hands, but nowhere else. Dude was old, be he looked pretty tough.”

“Weird,” Steve frowned. “It’s a boxing gym, so I bet any number of fit people could have taken him down.”

Sam put the papers down. “So we know there were a bunch of people ... if we believe the anonymous tip. Tip said there was a fight. Maybe Fogherty stepped in to stop it?”

“But why were people there at all?” Steve stared into the middle distance.

“What do you mean? It’s a gym, people go there to train.” Sam said.

“It’s not open on Sundays,” Steve murmured, then grabbed his coffee for another sip and was disappointed to find it empty.

“Oh, right,” Sam rubbed at his face.

“Well, we got a suspect pool of basically nobody,” Sam sighed. “Snitches get stitches, I guess.”

Steve looked over with a wry twist to his mouth. “Not really. If it was real bad, folks woulda spoken up. They don’t want trouble, well, more trouble in these parts.”

Sam sniffed and levelled a look at Steve. “Unless it was one of their own.”

Steve tilted his head and tried not to fall down that rabbit hole.

 

* * *

 

He rubbed at his eyes, the reports swimming behind his eyes. They were no closer to figuring this thing out. All they had was that the weapon was serrated and small, like a steak knife. And the bullet they’d pulled from the gym’s concrete was too mangled to decipher much about it. The team had dusted the place from top to tail and taken swabs of everything they could see, and still, no dice. There were just too many people frequenting the place.

“More coffee, officer?” the waitress appeared at his elbow.

“Oh, uh, yes, thanks, Colleen,” Steve smiled. “Also, do you think I could get the farmer’s breakfast special?” he added, not even picking up the menu.

Colleen smiled, “Of course. Over easy, rye toast?”

“Yes, please,” he murmured.

“I’m on it,” she said. “Be right back with the coffee.”

The diner wasn’t packed, but it wasn’t empty either. Pretty soon the families would be showing up for breakfast and Steve would still be fretting on his day off.

He scrolled through his phone; Nothing but a new newsletter from the Homeowners Association. He sighed and rubbed at his mouth.

“Hey, look,” he heard a voice behind him. Steve had been staring at the big, sunny window out front, lost in thought. “Officer Rogers, hi.”

Steve looked up into a vaguely familiar face.

“Uh, Samantha, right?” he said. Then he noticed someone behind her. Bucky Barnes looked back at him and Steve’s heart kind of did a flip-flop of surprise.

“It’s so nice to see you out and about,” Samantha said, smiling wide. She was looking really good these days. “Heard you’re back in the neighbourhood.”

“Well, the weather’s not great,” Steve said with a smile, “But this place is like home, right?”

Samantha laughed, “Ain’t that the truth.”

She turned to look at Bucky. “You ready to go, babe?” she murmured.

Bucky nodded, already shrugging into his winter coat.

Steve felt a hot roil of jealousy course through him. Were the two of them having some kind of post-coital morning brunch or something? Shit, he didn’t even know Bucky was seeing anybody.

“Well, you enjoy your breakfast,” Samantha said, wrapping her scarf around her neck. “Maybe we’ll see you around more?”

“Sure, of course,” Steve nodded sickly. He was gripping his phone so hard it was probably going to bend soon.

Bucky didn’t say anything, just followed the beautiful woman up to the front and out the restaurant.

“Your coffee,” Colleen appeared out of nowhere, making Steve jump. “Oh, sorry!” she said with a smile.

“No, no, it’s okay, I was just lost in thought,” he said, pulling the white cup and saucer closer. “Thanks.” He picked up four packs of sugar and dumped them into the drink, clinking the spoon against the cup’s sides. “Hey, uh, Colleen?”

“Yes?” she turned back to him, all smiles.

“Um, do they come in here often?” He waved at the spot where Bucky and Samantha had been moments before. “Barnes and, uh …”

“Sam?” Colleen provided.

“Yeah,” Steve almost winced.

She shrugged, “Not much more than anyone else. Why? You snooping out clues or something?”

“No, no,” Steve waved a hand, “I just didn’t know … uh, oh, nevermind.”

Colleen eyed him a moment longer, then tilted her head and made her way over to another table, waiting to be served.

 

* * *

 

“So we got news that Fogherty was knee deep in gambling,” Sam was muttering. “Looks like he had a thing for cards, racing, fighting, the whole shebang.”

“Yeah,” Danny nodded, “And he’d drummed up a lotta bills on the side.” He dropped some papers. “The Gym was behind on rent. Four months.”

Sam looked at the numbers, “Jeez, that rent is high. How’d a guy like him pay for this before?”

Steve chewed his lip and flipped his pen between his fingers, “Maybe he was gambling all the time, making ends meet like that? Lord knows his customers weren’t putting in that much in memberships.”

“I heard they were planning on expanding the available training,” Danny said.

“Huh?” Sam asked.

“I know someone who goes there. There were talks about opening it up to people not just invested in boxing. Like, Kung Fu and MMA training options for men and women. It would bring in a much younger crowd, right? That place is pretty intimidating to most folks.”

“You mean because of the old ties to the mob?” Sam snorted.

“No, I mean, it’s rank,” Danny made a face. “It’s never really brightly lit and I dunno how much work the cleaners really put into it, but the bathrooms are disgusting, nevermind the showers.”

Steve pondered that.

“Who’s handling that parking fraud thing?” he said.

Both officers looked up. “Uh, I think Blaine, why?” Sam said.

Steve raised both brows, “Well, we have other work to do you know?”

“Yeah, but Cap – ” Danny began but was halted by Steve’s stern look.

“The detectives are on this case,” Steve said. “You’re a police officer. You have other stuff to do as well. Leave the snooping to them.”

Danny nodded slowly and gathered up his notes. “You want me to hand this stuff to them?”

Steve sighed, “Yeah, make copies.”

Sam eyed Steve over his desk. “You know we should be focusing on this case, right?”

Steve made a face, “Yeah, but we also have to focus on the other shit happening, Sam. We have two robberies, another reclaimed stolen car and a bunch more court appearances and parole check-ins to deal with. Focus on that.”

Sam nodded, “All right. Got it,” and he stood up with a grunt.

Steve watched his team mill about, doing what they do best, which, for the most part, was filing and phone calls.

 

* * *

 

“This the place?” Karen said, slamming the car door behind her.

“Yep,” Steve said, tugging on his official police hat.

“So, why here?” She murmured, wobbling a little over the clumps of icy snow built up around the gate.

“This is a bit of a base station for the chop shops and bikers in the area,” he murmured, offering her his hand.

“Huh,” Karen said. “Just a mechanic shop, though.”

Steve smiled, “Most of the time, yeah.”

Karen walked beside him, “You really know a lot of stuff, don’t you, Steve?”

He shrugged, “You grow up in the ‘hood, you see a lot.”

The two of them approached the massive garage where tools could be heard whirring and whining loudly. Cars were lined up while others were on lifts, mechanics and workers milling about.

Music blared from somewhere, causing the whole place to sound like the busy downtown strip on a Friday night.

“Delaney!” Steve yelled over the din.

A man turned, wiping at his grease-covered hands.

Steve knew better than to enter the shop before the man came up to him.

“Officer Rogers,” Delaney, the owner of the place said. “What brings the revered Brooklyn police force to our door?”

Steve knew to play it easy with the guy.

“Just got a few questions. Mind if I talk to your crew?”

Delaney licked his teeth, “Do I need to call my lawyer?”

“Always an idea,” Steve said, “But really, just questions.”

“Do you mind if we take a look at the vehicles you have?” Karen asked.

Delaney looked her over warily. “Not without a warrant.”

Steve held up a hand, “Sorry, no, it’s okay. We just want to talk to your employees. Figure they’d be the best eyes on a current car theft.”

“How so?” Delaney asked, hands on his overalls.

“Bet your boys know more about how to spot fancy new license plates and scratched VINs than anyone else I know,” Steve said.

A few of the mechanics had stopped tinkering. Someone shut off the music.

“You know I run a clean shop, Rogers,” Delaney growled. “I learned my lesson.”

“Did you?” Karen asked.

Delaney eyed her, “Yes, ma’am. Ten years can do a lot to a guy.”

“Seriously, seriously, no worries,” Steve had both hands up. “We’re genuinely just here for answers. We’ve got some missing vehicles and figured you’d have the pros to spot stuff, is all,” Steve placated.

Delaney seemed to think for a bit. “Fine.”

He waved to one of the guys. “Tell the boys Officer Rogers is making the rounds.”

“Yes, sir,” the other man nodded.

Karen and Steve worked their way around the massive garage, talking to whatever mechanics were around.

Most of them were wary but helpful. Seems Delaney was a good enough boss to instil faith in his decision to let cops in the door.

Steve and Karen made their way over to a faded red challenger, a pair of legs sticking out from under it. Steve nudged the ankle.

“Excuse us, but could you spare a sec?”

“The fuck?” came a gruff response. And of all the people to roll out from under the vehicle, it would, of course, be Bucky fucking Barnes.

“Oh, Mr Barnes!” Karen said with a smile. “I didn’t realize you worked here.”

Steve swallowed. Shoot, damnit to hell.

Bucky stared at them from on his creeper. He had headphones in.

He sat up, though, and pulled the phones free. “What?” he asked, grease and smudges covering his cheeks and jaw.

“Uh, we’re just here to ask you a few questions,” Karen said, bending and handing him a wipe she pulled from her police jacket. The woman was prepared.

Bucky took the wipe, stared at it, and cleaned his fingers before getting up.

“Again?” he asked. “Ain’t you done with this shit yet?” Bucky grumbled.

“No, this is something else,” Steve sighed. “You seen any jacked cars lately? VINs missing or scratched, etcetera?” Steve asked, thumbs hooked into the back of his belt, feet squared. The garage was fucking freezing. Bucky was in a long sleeved t-shirt and jeans, both items dirty to hell and back.

Bucky eyed them both, petite Karen and stiff, stern Steve. “I haven’t jacked any cars,” he said.

“We didn’t say you did,” Karen smiled. “We’re just asking the experts. Let us know if you’ve noticed any coming through?”

Bucky pulled out a rag from his jeans pocket and wiped some more at his hands. “This ain’t a chop shop,” he added.

“Yeah, I know,” Steve sighed, “but we’re asking all the shops. This place, I know is good.”

Bucky snorted. “So, what? Cars going missing?”

Steve scratched his eyebrow, “Something like that. Folks are buying vehicles locally, all cash, and then getting pulled over because the stolen cars are being reported almost an hour after sale.”

Karen glanced at Steve. Shoot, too much info.

Bucky nodded and folded his arms. “So you want us to tell you if people are getting paint jobs and new rims ’n shit. Steering columns?”

“Yep,” Steve said.

Bucky pondered this, brows furrowed.

“I’ll keep an eye out, how ‘bout that?”

Steve looked at Karen, who shrugged. This was probably all they were going to get at this point. He turned back to Bucky, “That would be great. Thanks.”

They awkwardly backed away and went over to question the next sucker.

“You sure know a lot about stealing cars, Steve,” Karen leaned in and whispered.

Steve chuckled, “I know people.”

They continued their rounds, going up to every willing mechanic and asking them what they knew, saw, or could help with.

At one point, Karen actually laughed out loud at one of the guys flirting with her. She leaned against Steve, shaking her head at the man’s outrageous come-ons.

Steve was as professional as possible, letting the guy down for her, but she still laughed and leaned. Stuff like this really didn’t rattle her.

Steve shook his head, wondering how she made it through the day being hit on regularly and not losing her mind. Must be tough. Not that she couldn’t handle herself. Karen was a tough cookie, for sure.

At one point, Steve looked up and found Bucky leaning against the car he’d been working on. He was staring their way, arms crossed. He didn’t look pleased. Not at all.

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” Scott Lang said in a low voice, sidling up to Steve at the bar. “Heard you were asking about cars. Unofficially.”

Steve put his beer down. “Yeah?”

Scott stared across the bar like he wasn’t talking to the one policeman in the joint. “Yeah. I got something for you.”

Steve raised a brow slowly. “I’m not looking for a new car, Scott.”

The other man huffed, “No! Jesus, how stupid do I look?” he grumbled. “Selling to a cop, can you believe this?”

“All right, what do you have?” Steve pressed.

Scott was quiet, then looked down at his own drink. “Off the record?”

Steve smirked, “I’m not a reporter, Lang.”

Scott pouted, “You know what I mean! I don’t wanna be implicated, or whatever.”

Steve wiped at condensation on his glass. “Are you implicated?”

“No,” Scott said firmly. He moved his glass around in a figure-eight on the bartop. “But if folks hear I was talking to you…”

“Okay,” Steve nodded. “I can do my best.”

Scott blinked, “It’s not like I know anything about the business of jacking cars, or anything. I just heard stuff.”

“Uh huh,” Steve took a swig of beer.

“I want immunity, in case,” Scott said.

“Immunity from what?” Steve asked.

Scott waved a hand, “I don’t know! It’s what they say on CSI. I’m not the problem, here.”

Steve sighed. “Okay, but you have to tell me what you know, else I can’t say yes to anything. You can trust me.”

Scott chewed his lip. “Fine.”

 

* * *

 

“We got something,” Steve huffed, coming into the precinct like a man on fire the next morning.

“What?” Sam perked up. “Oh, you brought Starbucks!”

Steve set down the tray of coffees.

“Car came up. Seems it was stolen about three months ago. The owner reported it missing only a few weeks back, though. Said she hadn’t thought to use it until the snowstorm hit. Then found her garage empty.”

He slapped down a Ziploc filled with photos. “Car came up in an alley on Beverly. Been totally stripped. Arrived at the mechanic and they couldn’t resell it for what it was. Put the parts up for sale instead.”

Sam opened up the baggie and laid out the images. “How do you sell this shit?”

“There’s a whole business for parts, off the internet,” Steve said. “You gotta be in the know, apparently.”

“Holy…” Sam breathed. “Tell me that ain’t blood.” He pointed at a photo.

“Yep,” Steve said. “Footwell carpets were covered in it, and guess what?” Steve yanked at his heavy winter coat.

Sam looked up at Steve’s grinning face. “What?”

Steve threw his jacket over his desk. “We found a knife.”

 

* * *

 

“Here we go,” Sam breathed, nodding. They reared up around the corner and Sam hit the sirens so they blared loudly, once.

Every car that rolled into the massive parking lot came to a hard stop, policemen falling out the doors, standing at the ready.

Steve got out and walked over the iced up gravel, nerves thrumming.

Delaney stood there, hands on hips, the rest of his crew paused at work.

“What the hell is this?” he asked. Steve just brushed past him.

“Marcus Rossman!” Steve barked out, “This is the Brooklyn Police. I have a warrant for your arrest.” he said loudly.

The man in question was already backing away, then at the sound of his name, he twisted and ran. Steve bolted, hearing Sam bark an order from not far behind.

“The hell?” Delaney yelled. “What’s going on here! Hey! You can’t come in here like that!”

Steve booked it after Rossman, the man weaving in and out of the bank of cars.

“Rossman!” Steve barked. “Stop!”

The man swerved to the right, finding an officer already at the side exit. He turned and slid, careening back and around one of the lifts, a mechanic in the pit watching with wide eyes.

Rossman slid and rolled, picking up a massive wrench. He twisted and turned to swipe at Steve, who barely ducked in time.

Rossman awkwardly lobbed a toolbox at him, scattering screwdrivers, nuts and bolts and pliers at Steve’s legs.

“Shit,” Steve winced. Rossman then took another swing, this time catching Steve on the side of the face.

He saw stars and damn did it hurt!

Steve wobbled. He moved, though, and tried to squeeze between the cars Rossman had got through. The man was fucking fast.

Rossman was clambering up an SUV, probably hoping to get to the old upper stairwell left over from this building’s warehouse days, when someone grabbed him by the ankle and yanked. Rossman squawked and was thrown onto the cold ground, skidding along on his belly.

“The fuck!” he yelled, scrambling to get up. He got to his feet and turned to run, but Bucky Barnes was there, and his elbow clipped Rossman cleanly across the face, flattening the man in one go.

“Oops,” Bucky said.

Rossman wailed and writhed, clutching at his face.

Steve ran forward and rolled him over, grabbing at his wrists.

“Here, hey, you’re bleeding on everything,” Bucky hissed and pushed Steve aside, pressing a knee to Rossman’s back, and tugging his wrists together. Steve bent to clip on the handcuffs, still a little woozy. He stood up and realized Bucky was right. He had a wet gash across his cheek.

“Uh, thanks,” Steve said, stepping back as the other police officers swarmed Rossman.

 

* * *

 

“So Rossman did the deed, made a mess of the car he stole and tried to hawk the rest?” Danny asked.

Sam nodded. “Looks about right. The idiot didn’t even get rid of the weapon,” he murmured, writing more notes for evidence.

“Wow,” Danny said.

Steve packed up the papers and bags of evidence and put them in the cardboard box for processing. “Karen did a bang-up job with his confession,” he said.

Sam paused, “I still don’t get it though,” he said. “Why kill Fogherty anyway?”

Steve shrugged.

“Maybe he lost a bunch of crap gambling?” Sam suggested.

“You think that’s what it was?” Danny asked. “A gambling ring?”

“It’s something, for a man to want to stab the old guy like that. And remember, multiple witnesses,” Sam added wearily.

“And a gunshot wound,” Steve murmured. That was the thing. Rossman said he’d shot the old guy as well. Dumped the gun elsewhere.

It wasn’t perfect, but it’s what they had.

 

* * *

 

Steve looked up at the faded Fogherty’s Gym sign.

“Well, it’s great it got bought up so quickly, right?” Danny murmured, walking beside him.

“Yep,” Steve said, pushing through the front door. It was a few days after the gym was opened up again. He was pleasantly surprised to find the place looking much better.

The linoleum was cleaned up and the windows on the far wall were clear of dirt and scum, giving the place a much brighter air.

A few people were about, probably trying to get used to using the place like a gym again.

A crew was on one end of the massive room, putting up a new wooden climbing wall. The building had good bones, it just needs some TLC.

“Hey!” a voice chirped, and Steve turned.

“Colleen?” Steve blinked, unused to seeing her outside of the diner. “Hey.”

“You thinking of signing up, Officers?” she winked at Danny, who flushed a little.

Steve smiled, “No, just checking everything’s okay.”

Colleen shrugged and tugged at the wrappings on her knuckles. “Could be better, but you know.”

Steve nodded. She clearly wanted to talk to Danny, so he let them be and walked around the place. He noted the familiar faces in the rings, practising their boxing skills.

A few other folks were over by the weights.

It was strange that something so horrific could happen here, and then everything moves on, like always.

He wound his way through the employee area, nodding at the towel girls.

The locks had been replaced on all doors, and painters were in the back preparing to start on the walls.

He found the back exit and pushed through, wanting to make sure the waste had been taken by the city. Weeks with no maintenance had left the back smelling like a sewage plant.

He stepped out into the cold sunshine.

He also blinked, startled by the figure leaning back against the brick wall, lighting up.

“Bucky?” he blurted.

The other man looked up, also startled.

“Rogers? The hell you doing here?” he asked around his cigarette.

Steve waved his finger in a circle. “Checking up.”

Bucky nodded. He was outside in sweats and a black tank top. Wasn’t he fucking freezing?

Steve approached him, his hands in his pockets. Oh. Bucky’d obviously been training, as he was sweaty, his hair damp, wrappings still around his knuckles.

“Boxing?” Steve said, tilting his chin at Bucky’s roughed up hands.

“Sandbag,” Bucky intoned.

Steve nodded.

“You really pissed old Delaney off, you know,” Bucky murmured, brows dark above those pale eyes of his. “He runs a clean business.”

Steve took a deep breath, “Yeah, I know. Not his fault he had a criminal employee.”

Bucky snorted, “Every one of his employees has a record, Rogers.”

Steve smiled and shrugged. “Yeah. I guess.”

Bucky took a drag on his cigarette. “So Rossman did it, huh?”

Steve didn’t answer at first. “We’re still working on it. Court date’s been set though.”

“He confess?” Bucky asked. Steve just stared at him drily. Bucky shrugged. “Figured I’d ask. Fuckin’ weird having a murderer working on the car beside me, is all.”

“And you didn’t suspect anything?” Steve asked.

Bucky scowled. “No, officer.”

“Don’t do that,” Steve huffed.

“Then don’t fuckin’ assume I’m hooked into all the criminal activity 'round here. Sometimes it’s just a job, next to employees I barely talk to.” Bucky bit out.

“I didn’t assume that,” Steve retorted.

“Whatever,” Bucky said.

“You know, you’re–“ Steve began, but then cut himself off. “Nevermind.”

They were both quiet, Bucky smoking silently beside Steve.

“He offered me money,” Bucky said then.

Steve turned. “Who? Rossman? For what?” Steve suddenly had visions of Bucky pulling off murders for thugs and getting paid for bloodying his hands.

Bucky shook his head and stubbed out his cigarette. “Fogherty.” He turned to look at Steve. “To fight.”

Steve frowned, confused. “I don’t get it.”

Bucky licked his lip. “Underground brawling. It was something the old man did to make cash. Been doing it for years.”

Steve blinked. “Shit. Really?”

Bucky nodded. “He had a lot of enemies, Steve.”

It kind of made Steve’s belly swoop to hear his name on Bucky’s lips.

“Yeah?” he croaked.

Bucky licked at his teeth, then blinked up at Steve from under those lashes of his. It probably wasn’t intentionally alluring, but Steve still couldn’t help it.

“He asked me a few weeks back, said it would pull in good money, a guy like me,” Bucky went on. “Said I’d get twenty percent if I won.”

Steve paused before asking. “Did you …”

“No,” Bucky said, folding his arms.

Steve nodded. “Okay. Good.” Fully aware that Bucky could be lying.

Bucky then moved to leave. He paused on Steve’s other side. He lifted his hand and pressed the pad of his thumb against Steve’s jaw. “Stitches?” he asked, tilting Steve’s head a little.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, three.”

Bucky nodded, then dropped his hand and walked on by.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Cap, can you get his car for me?” Karen said, tossing Sam’s keys.

Steve caught them deftly and laughed. They bundled Sam into the cab, the man slurring happily about how great everything was.

“I love… the holiday season!” Sam said loudly.

Karen sighed and pushed her hair behind her ear. “I’ve got this,” she said. “Honestly, you’d think police were better at holding their liquor.”

Steve smiled, “Well, we try.”

Karen just rolled her eyes. “Well, regardless, you have a good Christmas break, okay? We’ll see you, what, in three days?”

“You betcha,” Steve saluted.

Karen smiled and leaned up to give him a peck on the cheek. “Don’t spend it alone, okay? You call us, and we’ll pull you in.”

Steve brushed her words aside. “Ah, get gone, you.” She followed suit and slid into the cab, shutting the door behind her.

“Good-bye Steven!” Sam wailed through the window. “I love you!”

Steve snickered and waved them off.

His breath clouded up as he jammed his hands into his wool coat.

He turned and looked down the street, wondering where Sam parked his car anyway.

“Hey,” a voice made him jump. He twisted around.

Steve blinked.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said, taking in the hair pulled back and the thick, warm jacket. “What’re you doing here?”

Bucky shrugged, “You mean, what am I doing outside the bar usually frequented by the Law Enforcement Officers of our great city?”

Steve blinked. “Yeah?”

It was true. Most of the patrons currently inside the raucous bar were Steve’s colleagues on the force.

Bucky shrugged again.

Steve wavered on his feet. “Uh, okay.” Then it clicked. His eyes went wide. “Barnes,” he murmured.

Bucky looked aside.

Steve just smiled, “Are you waiting for me?”

Bucky scowled and looked him in the eye. “I dunno.” He huffed loudly. “Maybe. Wondered how your busted face was looking.”

Steve snorted and tapped his cheek. “All good.”

Which was true, the injury was now just a pink line.

“You finishing up? You heading home?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah.”

“Here, let me drive you,” Steve pulled out the keys in his pocket.

Bucky raised a brow. “I ain’t riding in a police cruiser, thank you.”

“It’s Sam’s car,” Steve shrugged. “He took a cab. Figure it can stay at my place until he’s good to come get it.”

“How responsible,” Bucky smirked, but he didn’t exactly say no.

 

* * *

 

 

“You know,” Steve said, pulling left off the main street. “I don’t automatically assume you’re mixed up in bad shit.”

Bucky grunted beside him.

“I’m serious,” Steve said. “I get that you think that, but it’s not true.”

He looked over at Bucky in the passenger seat.

“Okay,” Bucky said drily.

They drove in silence for a bit, Steve aware of the tension.

“So,” Steve said, hands turning the steering wheel expertly. “How’s Samantha doing?”

Bucky turned, “Huh?”

Steve looked at him, all nonchalance. “Sam? The girl from the diner? How is she doing?”

Bucky blinked, “I don’t know. Why would I know?”

Steve blinked, “Oh, sorry. Thought you and her were–I mean, you were having breakfast. Thought you two–uh–you know…”

“You think I’m boning Samantha? Are you kidding me?” Bucky growled. “Why’s it any interest of yours? Your Miss Karen ain’t got anything to say about that?”

“Huh?” Steve frowned. “Karen?”

“Yeah, her,” Bucky bit out perhaps a little rougher than necessary. “Saw her give you a kiss outside the bar. So why you even asking?”

Steve looked at Bucky sharply, gently pulling away from the intersection. “Me and Karen? No, oh my god, no. She’s on my team. I’m technically her boss.”

“Uh huh,” Bucky retorted. “Sure. Pretty girl like that.”

“Samantha’s pretty,” Steve scowled, “If you like that sort of thing. Plus, she called you ‘babe’.”

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky bit out. “I fuckin’ show up outside that stupid bar on Christmas fucking eve and you’re asking me if I’m boning my neighbour’s daughter? Pull over.”

“What?” Steve blinked out at the darkness, the lack of streetlights down this road making it hard to see.

“I said,” Bucky growled, “Pull over.”

Shit, did Bucky want to get out? “Hey, Barnes, I’m not saying–“

“Pull. The. Car. Over, Rogers,” Bucky said angrily, unsnapping his seatbelt.

Steve’s mouth was a thin line, but he complied, pulling the car off to the side of the road, outside a dilapidated old house still up for sale.

“Look, Bucky, I didn’t–“ Steve began, turning, but was summarily shut up by the weight of another man clambering over him and locking his lips with Steve’s.

Steve’s hand waved hurriedly, panicked, pulling the handbrake before he responded in kind, kissing Bucky for all he was worth.

“Kick the seat back,” Bucky growled, hands pushing at Steve’s jacket.

Steve complied as best he could, yanking the seat lever, so it pushed him away from the steering wheel, giving Bucky room to climb onto Steve’s lap properly and begin ravaging his mouth.

“Fuck,” Steve gasped, feeling Bucky’s dick pressing against his own, all of Bucky’s weight on his thighs.

“You dumb sack of crap,” Bucky was growling, ripping at Steve’s shirt, unbuttoning him as fast as he could.

“Wh-What?” Steve gasped, feeling fingers at his nipples, rubbing. “Are we having car sex?”

Bucky gently nipped at his jaw, then licked his way up to Steve’s ear which, as he knew, was a serious erogenous zone for the blonde.

“Ah-aah!” Steve whimpered, shivers running down his neck and up into his hair.

Bucky’s hips were moving, rolling and pushing into him.

Shit, Steve was going to come after, like, three seconds. “Bucky, wait,” he gasped.

Bucky pulled back and licked his own lips. “You don’t wanna?”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “I do! Oh, yes, I do. Really. Please. I just-we can’t have sex in Sam’s car.”

“Who says we’re having sex?” Bucky rumbled, kissing Steve gently. His undulating hips said otherwise. Steve’s breath caught and his dick jumped.

“You like that?” Bucky hummed deeply, He rolled his hips harder and Steve’s eyes almost crossed.

“Y-Yes,” he bit out.

“Good,” Bucky nipped at his bottom lip before twisting and sliding back into the passenger seat. “Now let’s go.”

Steve gasped for air and stared down at the lump in his pants. He looked at Bucky. The other man just smirked.

“Come on, Rogers,” he said. “We ain’t got all night.”

And Steve did what he was told, grinding the handbrake in his haste to get the car moving.

  

* * *

 

 

“Fuck,” Steve gasped, licking at the dick below him. “Bucky, you gotta give me a break.”

On the other end of the bed, Bucky was sucking Steve’s dick, hands pulling Steve’s hips down to meet his mouth. Bucky just retorted by raising his own hips up to meet Steve’s face.

God, Bucky’s mouth was a sin and it made it very difficult for Steve to reciprocate. Though they were in an actual bed this time. Bucky’s king-size bed. Steve had never ever been in the man’s bedroom before.

Steve bent down and sucked on the tip of Bucky’s cock, enjoying the way Bucky hummed around him. Steve sucked lower, bobbing his head slowly. Bucky’s knees parted some more, welcoming.

A particularly good suck on Steve’s dick had him gasp. Bucky was using that wet tongue of his, swirling and tasting.

“You’re so good at this,” Steve whimpered, licking feebly. He couldn’t compete in this arena. He just couldn’t focus.

“Fuck my face, Rogers,” Bucky growled below him. “Come on.” Hands smacked Steve’s ass.

“I can’t,” Steve said, gasping at one particularly good suck. “I might hurt you.”

Bucky rumbled around him and Steve shivered.

Then Bucky pushed at his hips, throwing Steve to the side.

“Fine, then we’re doing this right,” he growled.

Steve watched Bucky get off the bed and walk over to the bedside. He pulled out a pack of condoms and tore one free.

Steve swallowed and licked his lips.

When Bucky turned to face him, Steve wiggled a little, legs falling open.

“Mmm,” Bucky hummed, rolling on the condom expertly. Steve watched him raptly. Then Bucky came closer and pulled at Steve’s legs.

“Like this,” Bucky said, so Steve’s hips sat on the edge of the bed, his legs wide open.

Bucky had already spent a good half hour fingering Steve open while simultaneously blowing him, so, really, this was expected.

“Oh, Jesus,” Steve breathed when Bucky leaned over him for a kiss. Bucky adjusted his footing and stared at Steve. He put his elbows on the bed beside Steve’s ribs.

“Excuse me, officer,” Bucky rumbled, his dick sliding between Steve’s asscheeks.

“No,” Steve shook his head, “We’re not playing that.”

Bucky smiled, all teeth. He lifted off one arm so he could adjust his dick’s placement. Steve’s eyes widened at the touch.

“You okay with this?” Bucky asked softly.

Steve nodded. “Fuck yes.”

Bucky’s breath was a little rough, and he pressed his dick in, inside Steve, slowly.

“Ungh,” Bucky grunted, getting his elbow back on the bed. He stared down at Steve, who was wrapping his hands around Bucky’s back.

He started slow, just gently rolling his hips. Steve’s breath caught on every thrust.

“Fuck,” Bucky grunted, kissing Steve and pressing their chests together, skin-on-skin. Then Bucky pushed a little further, a little harder, and the lube was doing its job beautifully.

“Unh,” Bucky thrust hard, his skin slapping against Steve. “Yes.”

“Did you miss this?” Steve gasped out, hands on Bucky’s ass.

“Of course,” Bucky growled and bit at him. “You dumb fuck. I always miss this.”

“Really?” Steve blinked. He shuddered at a particularly good thrust.

“Come on, Rogers,” Bucky murmured, getting up onto his hands and staring him down, hips rolling smoothly. “You don’t know you’re the hottest piece of ass?”

Steve actually grinned. “No.”

“Well, you are,” Bucky gasped. He stood up slowly, running his hands down, over Steve’s sweaty pectorals, his ribs and abs. “Pure ass,” Bucky hissed, giving Steve’s cock one smooth tug.

“Fuck me harder,” Steve said, voice rough with pleasure.

Bucky smiled and stood up, bracing his feet with a wider stance. He pulled Steve’s legs open, sliding Steve’s ass off the bed completely. Steve felt exposed, spread out like this.

Bucky wrapped his hands around Steve’s hips and smiled.

“Fuck!” Steve grunted at the first thrust, then the next, and the next. Bucky set a steady pace, holding Steve in place while he basically ploughed him into next week.

“Uh, Uh!” Steve gasped. “Bucky!”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathed, hips hitting the back of Steve’s thighs loudly.

It seemed it was too much for him, the distance. He curled forward, Steve’s legs opening wider, so Bucky could spread out over him and begin slamming home.

Bucky kissed him, all tongue and hands. Steve’s hips rolled up, meeting every thrust with glee.

“Unh, uh uh, “Steve grunted, voice getting rougher. “Bucky.”

“Yes, baby,” Bucky lapped at his mouth, brow furrowed. “Let me fuck you good. So good.”

“So good,” Steve repeated. He gasped when Bucky’s face scrunched and the man slammed home, hard, his hips holding still. “You coming?” Steve asked. "Bucky?"

“Unhh,” Bucky breathed over Steve’s lips, wincing, his dick throbbing inside Steve. “Jesus. Yes.”

Bucky managed to roll his hips, still inside, and Steve’s hands moved south eagerly and began jacking himself frantically.

Bucky’s eyes opened slowly and he watched Steve’s face.

Steve was panting, eyes not daring to look away as his own orgasm peaked, Bucky still inside him. His hands slipped easily, slicking up and down while his chest heaved. "Bucky, I'm–"

Bucky was enraptured, watching Steve fall apart, spurting come between them, hips shivering, breath heavy and quick.

“Holy hell,” Steve gasped, shivering and wiping his hands down Bucky’s ribs, feeling the corded muscle there. “You’re amazing.”

Bucky nuzzled Steve’s cheek warmly, still not moving. “You ain’t so bad yourself.”

 

* * *

 

“Yes, all right!” Steve grumbled, running to get the door.

Sam was standing outside.

“Hey, Merry Christmas!” Steve cried, waving.

Sam made a face. “Man, Christmas was yesterday. I came round to get my car. Where were you?”

“Oh!” Steve ran back inside to get the keys. When he reappeared, he handed them over. “Your car’s all good.”

Sam didn’t comment on the lack of answer to his question. He just eyed Steve warily.

“Is that a hickey?” he asked.

Steve flushed and smacked a hand to his neck. “What? No.”

Sam cocked a brow and pointed lower. “No, on your hip.”

Steve glanced down where his sweats were drooping and his t-shirt had ridden up. There was a pretty mouth-sized bruised, and a few other marks, scattered over the scant few inches of skin visible.

Steve really had to work on his blush reflex.

“Just, take your keys and go, officer,” Steve said, standing up straight, and pulling at his shirt.

Sam looked at his car keys in his hand, then back up at Steve.

“You better not have had nasty-ass sweaty Christmas sex in my Toyota, Rogers. I just paid to get it cleaned.”

Steve scowled, “You always think the worst of me.”

Sam made a face, “I can see Barnes back there in the kitchen.”  
Steve whipped around, and yes, Bucky was in the kitchen making sandwiches in nothing but boxers.

“You ain’t foolin’ no one, Cap.” And with that, Sam sighed and made his way down the steps and back to his own vehicle, leaving a very flustered and annoyed policeman standing at the door.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for any spelling errors. I try! I fail. I try again. :-)  
> Thank you for reading, and to the people who liked and commented on the previous parts of this series, I really, really appreciate it! You spurred me on! \o/
> 
> And yes, I've left a few plot points free, as I'm hoping to get to them in any future instalments. ;-))  
> So, I'd recommend following the series [**here**](http://archiveofourown.org/series/781374), just in case I drum up something fresh.


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